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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23006989">KARABAST!</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/mudkipwrites/pseuds/mudkipwrites'>mudkipwrites</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>5+1 Things, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, M/M, Mutual Pining</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 09:54:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,408</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23006989</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/mudkipwrites/pseuds/mudkipwrites</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times that Kallus makes Zeb utter his favorite swear, plus one (or more) times that he says it himself.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alexsandr Kallus/Garazeb "Zeb" Orrelios</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>280</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. While Upon The Ice Moon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Many thanks to my fantastic beta, the aptly-named @fulcrum_reader, for all of the great edits and support. It's such a treat to work with you (and to celebrate all things KalluZeb)! Also, shout out to @aoibhneas for launching this #RebelsRemembered day (and for making sure that I spelled the hashtag correctly). It was a lot of fun to work on this contribution!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>/// ONE ///</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Alexsandr Kallus shivers in the cold.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Beyond the hollow shelter of their ice cave, a sub-zero wind whips and screams from above. Frost is gathering on the edges of his rumpled Imperial uniform, and he shudders against the chill of the ice biting into his legs and backside. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Karabast!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Garazeb Orrelios swears. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The tall, striped lasat man is pacing back and forth in the shallow snow. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Ashla, </span>
  </em>
  <span>I </span>
  <em>
    <span>cannot believe </span>
  </em>
  <span>my </span>
  <em>
    <span>terrible luck! </span>
  </em>
  <span>Force must hate me that I’m stuck </span>
  <em>
    <span>here--</span>
  </em>
  <span>on some desolate planet--in the midst of a </span>
  <em>
    <span>blizzard--</span>
  </em>
  <span>with </span>
  <em>
    <span>you!!” </span>
  </em>
  <span> With each step, his large and clawed footprints leave a shadow in the brittle substrate. </span>
</p>
<p><span>Agent Kallus snorts. He digs his hands into the thin, inadequate fabric of the trousers, hoping that the chill will take the edge off of his injured leg. “Neither can I.” He replies honestly, not even attempting to mask his disdain. “I can assure you, </span><em><span>Lasat, </span></em><span>that</span> <span>the very </span><em><span>last</span></em><span> thing I want is to be trapped on some ice moon at night with a </span><em><span>bloodthirsty beast.</span></em><span>” Too late, he realizes that insulting the rebel might not have been his smartest plan. Kallus tries to scoot back in the snow, pushing his gloved palms uselessly against the ice. </span><em><span>Stars! I should have kept my mouth shut! This one is lasat: ruthless, quick-tempered, and far too dangerous to live. I’ve seen what he and his kind can do... </span></em></p>
<p>
  <span>A dense, lavender patch of fur rises menacingly from the back of the lasat’s thick neck. The Imperial shudders. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh </span>
  <em>
    <span>yeah?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Garazeb snarls, stalking over to Kallus. Each movement is a ripple of deadly muscles, and the girth of his powerful legs strain against the fabric of his tactical jumpsuit. “This </span>
  <em>
    <span>beast </span>
  </em>
  <span>just pulled you outta that crumbling shuttle! This </span>
  <em>
    <span>beast </span>
  </em>
  <span>found you that rock that is currently keeping you warm and alive! And--if you don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>piss me off </span>
  </em>
  <span>enough for me to crush your head, honor and bloodthirst regardless--I’m gonna be your </span>
  <em>
    <span>only </span>
  </em>
  <span>ticket off of this rock. </span>
  <em>
    <span>So…</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Garazeb pauses when he comes to loom over Kallus. He extends one massive, clawed hand out to grip the human bruisingly about the chin. Kallus feels the pinprick of razor-sharp organic weaponry against his cold, exposed skin, and it makes his breath catch. “...You’d do </span>
  <em>
    <span>better</span>
  </em>
  <span> to watch your </span>
  <em>
    <span>tone </span>
  </em>
  <span>with me. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Kallus!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” He shoves his chin roughly aside. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Reaching up to rub at his aching jaw, Agent Kallus threads his fingers thoughtfully through his mussed beard. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t have to like it to know that he’s right. After all, I’m as good as bantha fodder if I don’t start laying out all of my cards here.</span>
  </em>
  <span>“And </span>
  <em>
    <span>how</span>
  </em>
  <span>, do you propose, we ought to go about such a thing?” He </span>
  <em>
    <span>tries </span>
  </em>
  <span>to maintain a civil tone with the question, but it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>difficult. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Not only is the lasat a </span>
  <em>
    <span>rebel</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but he is a living </span>
  <em>
    <span>reminder</span>
  </em>
  <span> of what had happened to Kallus and his men. “I suppose that you fancy </span>
  <em>
    <span>climbing</span>
  </em>
  <span> your way up those slippery walls again? Only to once again fall?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The lasat’s nostrils flare. His pointed, feline ears draw back against his head. “You gotta a </span>
  <em>
    <span>better</span>
  </em>
  <span> idea?” Garazeb growls, tapping one foot into the snow. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I suppose </span>
  </em>
  <span>you’d suggest we </span>
  <em>
    <span>ride the killer birds </span>
  </em>
  <span>up and outta here, right? Or something else dumb like that?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Perhaps. Give me a minute.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The lasat sighs and waves him away. Agent Kallus settles against an ice formation, wincing as the frigid cold bites into his spine. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Think, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he instructs himself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>And do it fast.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He glances around the dark cave, doing inventory and assessment. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Unfortunately, we don’t have much for resources. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He squints into the darkness, wondering if most Lasats have better night vision than humans. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Not much for traction, handholds or grips. Very little to use for climbing or leverage. Except...</span>
  </em>
  <span>He squints at a pillar of ice jutting out of the ceiling. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Perhaps, if the beast is strong enough to make a running jump, he could lift himself up and out of the cave. </span>
  </em>
  <span>And yet, there’s no chance in the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Empire</span>
  </em>
  <span> that he would allow such a thing. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He’d just leave me here to die. Surely. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...Heh heh.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Surprised, Kallus looks over at the other man. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Is he...chuckling</span>
  </em>
  <span>?!  When the sound comes again, Kallus is </span>
  <em>
    <span>pretty </span>
  </em>
  <span>certain that he actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span>--or at least, he is making the lasat equivalent. He can deduce it from the way that those long, glinting fangs are pushing up on his surprisingly plush lower lip; he can see it in the way that those green, luminous eyes are glinting back at Kallus playfully. And--to Kallus’ </span>
  <em>
    <span>continued</span>
  </em>
  <span> shock--Garazeb seems to also be </span>
  <em>
    <span>eyeing him up.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Because--after locking eyes with the Imperial--the lasat drops his gaze, and rakes his eyes up and down Kallus’ form. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He flushes and draws his arms tightly across his chest. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>What?!” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Garazeb shrugs and </span>
  <em>
    <span>winks</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “Ah, it’s nothing, Kallus. Well, actually...when you make that little </span>
  <em>
    <span>thinking-face </span>
  </em>
  <span>of yours?</span>
  <em>
    <span>…</span>
  </em>
  <span>it’s sorta...kinda...</span>
  <em>
    <span>cute</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I’m actually enjoying myself a bit right now.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Whatever he had been expecting, this was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>it. Agent Kallus clutches the meteorite against his chest in trembling hands. He scolds the rock for the heat that is flooding throughout his body: over his face, into his chest, seeping into the space between fingers and toes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I--you--what?! </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>sorry?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>he manages faintly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Am I...blushing?! Why the stars is my heart beating faster?!! </span>
  </em>
  <span>Agent Kallus firmly tells himself that his body is simply awash with adrenaline, preparing him for a fight-or-flight situation so close to this dangerous nemesis. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Get a grip on yourself, man! This cold is making you crazy! </span>
  </em>
  <span>But then, Garazeb laughs again--and the result is </span>
  <em>
    <span>immediate. </span>
  </em>
  <span>It’s a bright, sunny sound, and it floods through Kallus like a good cup of tea. It reminds him of </span>
  <em>
    <span>home</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and days long past, before the Academy, that were warm enough for him to run barefoot through the long, prairie grass. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t read too much into it,” Garazeb chuckles. “It’s just that you get all </span>
  <em>
    <span>scrunchy</span>
  </em>
  <span> and stuff. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Funny-looking.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Like you think you’re the only person in the </span>
  <em>
    <span>galaxy</span>
  </em>
  <span> who can figure this toughest of problems, and so it’s on </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span> shoulders </span>
  <em>
    <span>alone</span>
  </em>
  <span> to work till it’s done. Kinda admirable, actually.</span>
  <em>
    <span>” </span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>If it is possible for Kallus’ blush to deepen, it does. He drops his head, unsure what his enemy is going for. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“On the other paw?” The lasat continues. “It also looks like you’ve gotta go take an urgent </span>
  <em>
    <span>shit</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Charming, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Garazeb.</span>
  <em>
    <span>” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But for all the projected disgust in his voice, Agent Kallus </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows </span>
  </em>
  <span>what his body is trying to say. He’s too </span>
  <em>
    <span>clever</span>
  </em>
  <span> to ignore it. His face--his </span>
  <em>
    <span>heart--</span>
  </em>
  <span>is swimming with an unfamiliar, pleasant warmth. It’s affection. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Attraction. </span>
  </em>
  <span>And this radiant feeling has everything to do with the man who put the meteorite in his hands, and less to do with the stone that he’s presently clinging to. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, get yourself a sense of humor, Agent.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Garazeb steps forward and, </span>
  <em>
    <span>once again, </span>
  </em>
  <span>is Kallus’ space. This time, he feels a little </span>
  <em>
    <span>thrill--</span>
  </em>
  <span>he is </span>
  <em>
    <span>acutely</span>
  </em>
  <span> aware of their height difference, and the power stored inside the Lasat’s gentle hands. “Now, c’mon, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Kal,</span>
  </em>
  <span> it’s time to go. No sense letting those birds come back for the rest of us, right?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Agent Kallus is unsure if he is more horrified by this new pet-name---or the by way that he </span>
  <em>
    <span>sweeps Kallus up and into his arms </span>
  </em>
  <span>seconds later! “W-whatever are you doing?!</span>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why don’t you tell me all about that </span>
  <em>
    <span>brilliant</span>
  </em>
  <span> plan of yours, eh, ISB-029? I’m guessin that Grand Admiral Thrawn doesn’t keep you around the house for nothing...” </span>
</p>
<p><span>Startled at the shocking intimacy</span> <span>of it, Kallus leans back into Garazeb’s paws. One of them--massive, steady and strong--is supporting the curve of his neck and head. The other--of which he is most </span><em><span>acutely </span></em><span>aware--supports him behind the curve of his ass. </span></p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Well. That settles it. I’m dead and done for. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cradled in the arms of his enemy--basking against the warmth of his chest--Agent Alexsandr Kallus lies back and thinks of a plan.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>///</strong>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Just After Zero Hour</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>/// TWO ///</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Alexsandr Kallus--previously </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fulcrum; </span>
  </em>
  <span>at one time, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Agent; </span>
  </em>
  <span>and, currently, a Defector</span>
  <em>
    <span> disaster--</span>
  </em>
  <span>is leaning against the durasteel wall of the Ghost.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the moment, he is finding himself torn </span>
  <em>
    <span>entirely</span>
  </em>
  <span> ragged. His threshold of stress has been worn down to the limit; his muscle and skin are now bruised to the bone; and his frail, faltering ego is a shattered thing. Because, even though he finally gone and done right by the Rebels, his presence on board the Ghost has been </span>
  <em>
    <span>less </span>
  </em>
  <span>than welcome, and from the only person he’d wanted to see. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Garazeb. Where did I go wrong? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Kallus passing a hand over his weary eyes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I thought that that...he and I...I thought that we were, at least, friends. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>But, to his very real disappointment, this does not seem to be the case. In fact, it is as though </span>
  <em>
    <span>Kallus</span>
  </em>
  <span> is an </span>
  <em>
    <span>actual </span>
  </em>
  <span>spectre to Zeb, who seems to be actively avoiding him lately. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At first, Kallus had thought it was just the residual chaos of battle.</span>
  <em>
    <span> After all, much had to be accounted for, in the wake of an attack on the Rebel base.</span>
  </em>
  <span> After being debriefed by Rebel intelligence, he had been given time to gather himself and speak privately with the crew of the Ghost; but Zeb had been conspicuously </span>
  <em>
    <span>absent</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The others had greeted him each in their turn: Sabine, the Mandalorian woman, had sent him a holo from her home-planet; General Syndulla (</span>
  <em>
    <span>or, Hera, as she insists upon him calling her),</span>
  </em>
  <span> had rested her hands on his shoulder and said that ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>you’re one of us now.’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>AP-5 had been polite; Chopper had been...</span>
  <em>
    <span>civil</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Ezra Bridger had been outright obnoxious--and yet, Kallus supposed that was in order, given what the Empire had done to his family. </span>
</p><p><span>What he </span><em><span>hadn’t </span></em><span>expected was that even Kanan Jarrus--a man whom he had, most recently, </span><em><span>tortured </span></em><span>while in the Empire’s employ</span><em><span>--</span></em><span>had greeted him with more kindness than Zeb. “You belong here,” the jedi had stated kindly. “It’s just like he said: you have the heart of a Rebel.</span> <span>Welcome aboard.” (</span><em><span>How he’d learned of Kallus’ private conversation with Thrawn, he could not fathom). </span></em></p><p>
  <span>Because </span>
  <em>
    <span>Garazeb Orellios </span>
  </em>
  <span>is avoiding him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Actively </span>
  </em>
  <span>avoiding him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Zeb--</span>
  </em>
  <span>who had helped him avoid freezing to death on an ice moon; Zeb, who’d flirted with him in times of imminent death; Zeb, who’d even kept had kept in dangerous contact through those long, lonely nights by their encrypted channel--</span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>Zeb. He’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>nowhere</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be found. And not only does that reality </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurt...</span>
  </em>
  <span>it makes Kallus </span>
  <em>
    <span>mad.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Seething, the former ISB agent storms his way around the ship. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fine! If he won’t come out and talk to </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>, </span>
  <em>
    <span>then I’m just going to have to go and find </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not going to be that hard of a search. Garazeb is </span>
  <em>
    <span>large</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and he can only be in one one of two places that he’s been favoring. First--and most likely--he’s in his bunk. Lately, the lasat has taken to ‘resting’ much more than the others; and Kallus suspects that he’s been hiding out from him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>A clever place, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thinks dully, </span>
  <em>
    <span>with a good cover. Because he can pretend to sleep if anyone tries to confront him. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Secondly--and equally likely, although, more uncomfortable--Kallus suspects that Zeb might be in the fresher. He’s been spending a </span>
  <em>
    <span>lot </span>
  </em>
  <span>more time than the others ‘refreshing himself’ lately...and Kallus suspects that it’s not just his skewed, Imperial training to conserve water-resources that makes him think it’s often pushing too long</span>
  <em>
    <span>. Only so much grooming and self-care one can do, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thinks carefully, stepping around the inviting, mind’s-eye suggestion that his brain forms of Zeb in the fresher. Focusing in on his prey, Kallus stalks down the hallway of the Ghost’s bunks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Open up, you!” He shouts, slamming a fist on the reinforced door. “I know you’re in there, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Captain Garazeb Orrelios, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and I’d like to have a word!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When there is no response, Kallus grits his teeth in frustration. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Alright, then. Guess I have to play dirty. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>FACE ME!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>He bellows, echoing the provocative words he’d first shouted to Zeb upon Lothal. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>You! Lasat! Face me!” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s overkill; Kallus </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows </span>
  </em>
  <span>that. But, </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span>, are they </span>
  <em>
    <span>children?! </span>
  </em>
  <span>Because Zeb is behaving like it! What is he doing, going so far out of his way to avoid his best friend?! At least...well… Kallus’ heart sinks. To him, Zeb </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>his best friend.  His </span>
  <em>
    <span>only </span>
  </em>
  <span>friend. Perhaps it is not the same way for the lasat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment, Kallus allows his hand to slide down the door, where it rests limply and open at his side. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he tells himself firmly: </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ll be kriffed by the Empire if I lose this opportunity for us to converse while breathing in the same air. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Pushing away his self-consciousness, he slams his open fist once again on the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“GARAZEB!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Kallus shouts. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>will Not. Be. Ignored! </span>
  </em>
  <span>You let me </span>
  <em>
    <span>inside here </span>
  </em>
  <span>this moment, or I’ll...” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sound of heavy, wet footfalls from behind him draws his attention. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Or. I shall…” Alexsandr Kallus turns around, finding himself standing face-to-face with a </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>embarrassed looking lasat. Who appears to have come</span>
  <em>
    <span> directly</span>
  </em>
  <span> from the fresher. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Garazeb Orrelios is </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> wearing clothes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is a small, white towel that clings to his dripping waist; but it does </span>
  <em>
    <span>little</span>
  </em>
  <span> to obscure his view. And Kallus is </span>
  <em>
    <span>looking. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Because--the way that Zeb’s huge, hairy, </span>
  <em>
    <span>hot </span>
  </em>
  <span>chest is heaving; it appears as though he has just </span>
  <em>
    <span>run </span>
  </em>
  <span>from the fresher at the very sound of Kallus’ raised voice. Because--the lasat is layered with powerful, </span>
  <em>
    <span>beautiful, </span>
  </em>
  <span>rippling muscles, a patchwork of purple-grey stripes on his soaked, clinging fur. Because--the curling, sharp tissues of scars are standing out sharply against the smoothness of his bare skin, and it makes Kallus want to reach out and </span>
  <em>
    <span>Touch. Him. </span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“...Er...</span>
  <em>
    <span>Hi.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Zeb says. </span>
  <span>He raises the hand that is not holding the corner of his towel, and rubs at the hair behind his bowed head. “Um. </span>
  <em>
    <span>So. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I heard ya yelling, and I thought that, maybe, you might be in some kinda trouble, and…well...” He shrugs with embarrassment, the gesture tugging at his failing towel. “Ah, </span>
  <em>
    <span>RIGHT. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Okay. Well, clearly you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine, </span>
  </em>
  <span>so I’m gonna--” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“ZEB.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Kallus says, once-again finding his voice. “Zeb, </span>
  <em>
    <span>hold on a minute. </span>
  </em>
  <span>What the </span>
  <em>
    <span>kark </span>
  </em>
  <span>have you been playing at?! I have been trying to talk to you since the </span>
  <em>
    <span>moment </span>
  </em>
  <span>I got on this ship, and we’ve been playing this--this--</span>
  <em>
    <span>hide and go seek </span>
  </em>
  <span>now for ages, and--” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zeb chuckles, and it’s that warmth and familiarity that breaks the ice. In the sound of his laugh--over their many exchanges in this past year--Kallus has come to know the nuances even better--he can hear a note of caution and insecurity there. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Not </span>
  </em>
  <span>anger with Kallus. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Not </span>
  </em>
  <span>disappointment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Karabast! </span>
  </em>
  <span>I’ve been a </span>
  <em>
    <span>fool</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At last, the lasat raises his face to look up at Kallus. The way that he drops his eyelids over his eyes--covering the glowing, green orbs with his long, purple lashes--makes the heart inside of the human’s chest stutter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doubt that you’ll understand it, but actually, I’m very…” Zeb shifts the towel, as if realizing for the first time how exposed his body is. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>...Shy?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Alexsandr Kallus </span>
  <em>
    <span>laughs. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He throws back his head, and allows the sound to ripple out from him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Stars! </span>
  </em>
  <span>All this time, he’d thought that Zeb hadn’t wanted to see him...had been unhappy that he’d actually taken the bait and joined up with the Rebellion...but, in all of this, the man is truly just as earnest as</span>
  <em>
    <span> he </span>
  </em>
  <span>is to spend time together; and he just didn’t really know how to </span>
  <em>
    <span>show </span>
  </em>
  <span>it. </span>
  <span>The former Imperial gestures at Zeb, his eyes flicking over the now-soaking towel. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Shy, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Garazeb?” He asks, allowing a tease to color his voice. “Do you </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>expect me to believe that, when you’re standing out here with me looking like </span>
  <em>
    <span>this?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>In a moment of singular brilliance, he runs his eyes up and down Zeb’s frame--and echo of how the Lasat had first-ever flirted with him, back upon the ice moon of Geonosis. </span>
  <span>“I thought that Rebels would be better at interrogation than this.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zeb’s face goes through a series of movements. At first, he looks deeply embarrassed; then, shy and anxious once again; after that, he looks pleased; finally, something like...curious? The lasat glances up at him once again, a slow smile playing over his lips. </span>
  <span>“I’m real sorry, Kal. I just...It’s that…” He sighs heavily. “I’ve been so looking forward to you being </span>
  <em>
    <span>here, </span>
  </em>
  <span>you know? What if I was thinking differently about all of this than you were? What if I was, I dunno, expecting something that wasn’t real? I didn’t want to push ya, and I didn’t want you to feel obligated. So, I thought that I’d better--” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kallus silences him by stepping forward and placing his hands upon either one of Zeb’s thick, still-drying arms. The motion seems to make both of them shudder. </span>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Zeb.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>He says again gently. “It sounds like we have a lot to talk about. Why don’t you and I grab some caf, and then spend some time chatting together like adults?” He pauses, looking carefully at Zeb’s bare, furry chest. “Er. Not like...</span>
  <em>
    <span>adults, </span>
  </em>
  <span>adults. You should put something on, first.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh that’s right--</span>
  <em>
    <span>KARABAST!” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>This time, it’s Zeb who is laughing loudly. </span>
  <span>And it's Kallus’ grin that splits his face from ear-to-ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>///</strong>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. When They’re On Yavin 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>/// THREE ///</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Alexsandr Kallus gathers himself, shifting his feet against the soft earth. </p><p>
  <em> Inhale. Exhale. </em>
</p><p>Purple-barked Masassi palms sway around the edges of the training field, casting shadows upon the marshy ground in the late-afternoon sunlight. Blue-headed mushroom caps bloom in dark clusters at their base, casting a soft luminance and the strong, rich, earthy aroma of decay. When Kallus allows himself to close his eyes, drawing an image of the battle field, he can almost locate them by their smell alone.  </p><p>
  <em> Inhale. Exhale. </em>
</p><p>Garazeb Orrelios gives a rumbling laugh. “You ready for our final round, Kal?” </p><p>Kallus opens his eyes. Across the training field, his sparring partner is waiting. </p><p>“...Or do you need more time to <em> stop and smell the flowers?... </em>” </p><p>Zeb stands tall and powerful, jumpsuit and armor stripped down to his waist. Beyond the slight heave of his strong, purple chest <em> (and the glimmer of bloodlust in his catlike eyes) </em> , one wouldn’t know that the Lasat had spent his last <em> hour </em> engaged in relentless combat against one of the best fighters on Yavin 4’s base <em> . </em> Indeed, Zeb looks only <em> half </em> as tired as Kallus <em> feels </em>. Where his own knees tremble with exhaustion, the other man is firm, steady and strong; where his own sweating, bruised arms burn for relief at his sides, Zeb extends his before him, holding his ancestral weapon aloft. </p><p>“Some of us <em> think </em>before we act, Garazeb.” he replies calmly. </p><p>Zeb makes a scoffing, dismissive noise. He snaps the bo-rifle in front of him, extending the spears on each side to full length. Weapon prepared, it bursts with a crackle of purple-white lightning, condensing threateningly into a point at each tip. </p><p>“<em> Yeah?” </em> The Lasat smirks. “How about you start <em> thinkin’ </em> on what it’s going to look like from your perspective on the <em> ground </em> when I <em> kick your kriffing ass </em> for the <em> third time today! </em>” </p><p>He grits his teeth. <em> Nope. Don’t take the bait. </em> His former nemesis <em> knows </em> that his best angle for winning any kind of fight between them is to lure Kallus outside of his wheelhouse ( <em> strategy, defense, measured reactions) </em> and into Zeb’s <em> (barbarian rampage). </em>When it comes down to a tactical fight, Kallus can win. But when their sparring match is based on brute strength…</p><p>“What <em> language, </em> Captain Orrelios.” He replies, drawing his own bo-rifle from his back. </p><p>The movement is nothing so smooth and graceful as Zeb’s--he <em> is </em>a human, after all. Kallus starts with the weapon up by his shoulder, and snaps it downwards to the ground, using gravity to extend both ends of the shaft. It sizzles into bright, golden light. </p><p>“With such a <em> beastly </em> mouth as that <em> , </em>it surprises me that they still let you out and about without your leash and collar!” </p><p>Now <em> that </em> is a low blow, and it does <em> exactly </em> what Kallus is aiming for. Zeb’s eyes darken with fury and intensity, and his lips draw back in a brutal grin. <em> Reckless. Angry, and reckless. </em> While Zeb isn’t always the most <em> thoughtful </em> of fighters, he <em> is </em> incredibly smart, and it is an absolute <em> nightmarish </em> combination to fight the Lasat when he is in tune with both his mind and his body. So if Kallus can gain the advantage by distracting him long enough that he loses his cool and his focus… He <em> might </em>get an edge...</p><p>Or he might just end up <em> eating shit. Again. </em> </p><p>Zeb seems to be of the second persuasion, because he is not waiting for Kallus to give him the <em> ‘go-ahead’ </em>that the round has begun. Instead, he discovers that nearly 400 pounds of muscle-bound, death-breathing Lasat are launching towards him, wielding a scorching bo-rifle in-hand. Kallus has only a moment to brace himself before he and Zeb slam together, weapons clashing and fizzing with brilliant light.  </p><p>“So <em> that’s </em> how you wanna play this round out, eh?” the taller man asks, shoving his full weight into the gesture. “You wanna play <em> dirty?”  </em></p><p>Kallus is sent staggering by the force of the blow, but not nearly so much as by the tone and delivery of Garazeb’s <em> words.  </em></p><p>Okay, <em> yes-- </em> he <em> knows </em> that it’s probably not the most sane, sound reaction to your opponent. But he cannot <em> help </em> but feel his heart jump into his throat, feel his lungs tighten in his chest, at the deep, gravelly sound of Zeb saying something that sounds so... <em> suggestive. </em>The sweat that beading upon Kallus’ hot brow now has less to do with his exhaustion, but more to do with building arousal.  </p><p>
  <em> FOCUS, Kal! Inhale! Exhale!  </em>
</p><p>He tries his best to regain a sense of presence, but the way that Zeb’s eyes are locked upon his--intense, ruthless, searching--is making the deed much harder to carry out than to say. Zeb often uses smack-talk while they are in combat training… and now, <em>now, </em>Kallus cannot help but <em>wonder… </em>if he talks this way… in <em>bed…</em></p><p>Zeb swipes out with his charged bo-rifle, nearly striking Kallus upon his weak leg. Kallus dodges, using his staff to propel himself beyond reach. </p><p>
  <em> ...Does Zeb even take people to bed?  </em>
</p><p>It might not be proper for friends to ask such a question. And they <em> have </em> become good friends. <em> Close </em> friends. The very <em> best. </em>While together on base, Kallus and Zeb are nearly inseparable; they find each other at break of day in the mess hall, and remain together until bidding one another goodnight and wandering back to their own, quiet barracks. </p><p>Many of the rebels, Kallus knows, assume that he and Zeb are <em> already </em> a couple, and while the lasat always laughs it off with a joke, he never precisely <em> denies </em> their suspicions. More than once, Kallus has wondered if there is something… <em> more… </em>going on between them. There are times when they walk back from the Great Temple at night, shrouded by moonlight and bioluminescent mushrooms, when Kallus thinks that something might be said… that Zeb might even reach out, and gently take up his hand…</p><p>“C’mere, you! <em> Hold still!”  </em></p><p>Kallus dimly recognizes the swinging, purple static of a bo-rifle aiming for his temple. He swiftly drops to his knees. </p><p>“How am I supposed to <em>fight </em>you if you just go <em>dancin’ </em>out of the way all the time?” Zeb snarls as he barely avoids the maneuver. “Aren’t you ever gonna just Lasat up and <em>face me?!” </em></p><p>But with Zeb looming over him from the missed strike, Kallus ignores the familiar taunt; suddenly, he sees his window of opportunity.</p><p>If it <em> works, </em> he will have the winning blow… if it <em> doesn’t… </em> </p><p>He hoists his bo-rifle above his head. </p><p>“I do believe that’s <em> my </em> line <em> .” </em>Kallus gasps, stabbing upwards towards Zeb’s soft, exposed belly. </p><p>Zeb blocks him.</p><p>“You <em> sure </em>?” he smirks. </p><p>He disarms Kallus with ruthless efficiency.</p><p>“Doesn’t <em> seem </em> like it.” </p><p>The final result of the battle is clear: Kallus kneels before Zeb. His shoulders are hunched and aching, his hair has fallen into loose, messy strands. Tears of exhaustion and pain cling to his eyelashes, blurring the purple of the trees and the deep-green of the plants. Beneath him, Kallus can feel the dull ache of his old, injured knee and the fresh, smarting sting of all-new bruises. </p><p><em>“Submit to me,</em> Kal,” Zeb purrs from above him. “You’re <em>mine</em>. Once again.” </p><p>As Zeb towers above him--growling deep and low in his voice, radiating heat and powerful, familiar presence--something <em> changes </em> within Kallus. Just as before, Zeb’s chosen words seem to unlock a barrage of feelings trapped inside of him. And Kallus does <em> not </em>submit. </p><p>At least… not in the way that he is <em> supposed </em>to. </p><p>Kallus <em> faces </em> Zeb. He tips his chin upward--exposes the fragile, <em> soaking </em> skin of his throat--and opens himself up in the most vulnerable, transparent way that he can. </p><p>Zeb’s nostrils flare, and his tall ears draw back in alarm. </p><p>It is proper, <em> honorable, </em> to turn your head down and avoid any threatening eye-contact with the victor of a sparring match. <em> (This is a way to show the proper amount of due respect to the champion; or, depending upon your operative battle theory, a sense of self-shame). </em> Such things were especially fitting when one has been so clearly outmatched by their opponent--as Kallus has been in <em> this </em> case by Zeb, when he’s distracted, defeated, and on the ground in mere <em> minutes. </em>In such a situation, it would be correct and honorable of him to bow down, to crouch in a posture protecting his vital organs and chest.</p><p>But Kallus does <em> not </em>do that.</p><p>Because he is not thinking about <em>honor</em> at this moment. He is thinking about something <em>else</em>. Something much more earthy, and natural, and deep in his core. With the smell of the forest and mushrooms in his nostrils, the cling of dirt and sand beneath his nails, the taste of coppery blood in his mouth, Alexsandr Kallus tilts his chin upward and open to Zeb. Be it exhaustion or pride, poor judgement or <em>hunger, </em>he knows that he cannot, he <em>will not, </em>do what is safe or expected of him this moment; he will only do what it is that he <em>needs. </em></p><p>And that is to <em>face him. </em>With all of his transparent hunger and <em>want.</em> And to let Zeb decide for himself what he makes of that.  </p><p>So Kallus turns up his chin, and gazes at Zeb with the full force of his need. He tilts his bearded jaw to the side, loose hair still clinging to his sweating face, and exposes the fluttering, life-giving veins of his neck.  He can <em> feel </em> his blood singing beneath Zeb’s gaze. He can <em> taste </em>his own weakness and desire as his sweat drips down his jaw, fizzles upon the edge of his bo-rifle. </p><p>When Kallus swallows, the tip of it grazes his wet, fragile skin. </p><p>He <em> shudders.  </em></p><p>“KARABAST!” </p><p>Zeb makes a sound like a frightened Loth-cat. For the first time in their afternoon of battle, the lasat actually looks <em> afraid; </em> his green, luminous eyes have grown wide, and his claws are fully-extended in alarm. His grip upon the bo-rifle seems to be actually <em> trembling </em> , and every inch of his body screams, <em> Flee! Run away! </em></p><p>“Kallus...<em> Alexsandr... </em> what are you <em> doing?!” </em> For a long, tense moment, they stare at one another. There is a note of helplessness in the his voice as he whispers:  “...That’s <em> not </em> ...this <em> isn’t how </em> ...you <em> know </em> that’s not how this goes....!” </p><p>Kallus gazes up at his best friend. Zeb’s body is rigid with tension; the ruff on the back of his neck is standing up, and the exposed flesh on his stomach and chest is peaked into goose-flesh. He is panting anxiously. </p><p>The intensity of Zeb’s surprise and fear delivers him with a wave of understanding. </p><p><em> As long as we stick to our script...friendship, fighting, even as enemies...Garazeb Orrelios knows where he’s at. What’s required of him. However...in moments such as these, where I step out of line...on these occasions, he is completely and utterly lost.  </em> <em> For me to reveal myself to him--to say that I actually </em> want <em> those alternatives that he’s offering, that I truly </em> return <em> those things that he’s feeling--It is terrifying.  </em></p><p>
  <em> He is not ready.  </em>
</p><p>Everything about Zeb’s body language changes when Kallus drops his head to the ground. </p><p>He nearly <em> feels </em>the weight of anxiety leaving his friend when he releases a great exhale of shaking breath. Not wanting to startle his friend any more, Kallus stays where he is on the ground, and waits until Zeb has gone to retrieve his disarmed weapon before even making to so much as stir from his posture. </p><p>“Er, sorry about that...” the Lasat begins awkwardly. He tries to force a chuckle into his voice, but it sounds weak even to Kallus. “I got kinda weird there. You know, sometimes, I get--” </p><p>“--It’s <em> okay </em> , Zeb,” Kallus interrupts quickly. “You don’t have to explain yourself or anything. <em> Really.” </em> He accepts Zeb’s outstretched, open paw, and allows himself to be lifted up to his feet. ( <em> Frightened as a Loth-kitten, strong as a rancor!)  </em> “If you can forgive my <em> outrageous </em> breach of etiquette there, then I can most <em> certainly </em>tolerate you for the fact that you’ve handed me three concurrent failures.” </p><p>For the first time since their tense moment on the ground, Zeb returns his gaze to Kallus. His eyes are hopeful, curious--and as he sees Kallus’ easy and open response, his mouth breaks into a toothy smile.</p><p>“Well, that’s basically on <em> you, </em> Kal. You’re kriffin’ <em> terrible.” </em> </p><p> “<em> And </em>that crass, beastly mouth of yours,” Kallus adds with false disdain. </p><p>As the pair of them make their way towards the mess hall--weapons thrown over their shoulders, conversation cautious, but leaning back towards casual--Kallus allows himself to settle into the understanding that things between himself and Zeb might be slower than he had first hoped, but that there is truly, <em> definitely </em> something there. There is something <em> more </em>between them, even if it is too vulnerable, too unscripted to touch upon just yet. </p><p>And that there is nothing <em> wrong </em> with that--because Alexsandr Kallus is patient. <em> Tactical. </em> A <em> strategic </em> fighter. </p><p>And Garazeb Orrelios is <em> worth </em> the wait. </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>///</strong>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. During Duty On Hoth</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>/// FOUR /// </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>The low lighting flickers in the frost-coated hallway. Alexsandr Kallus’ toes and fingertips have long since gone numb, and he feels his head nodding and eyelids drooping closed in the sleepy sub-zero temperature.  </p><p>“Reminds me of that ice moon...” Garazeb yawns. </p><p>The Lasat’s lavender fur is fluffed out to its fullest extent, making him look a bit like a cuddly wampa. And yet even <em> he </em> looks weary of Hoth’s midnight chill; his emerald eyes are heavy and dull, and his ears droop beneath the flaps of his insulated cap.</p><p>“‘...’cept this time, we don’t have our own personal heater.” </p><p>Despite the harsh cold, Kallus flushes slightly. Recalling their time stranded on Bahryn always leaves him with memories of pleasure and regret. Pleasure, because it was there that he came to really <em> know </em>Captain Orrelios, and to forge the beginning of their new, tentative friendship; regret, because he should have taken Zeb’s offer to leave with him right then and there with the crew of the Ghost. Or huddled even closer into his warm, sleeping embrace. </p><p>“You doin’ alright there, Kal?”</p><p>Even though he is clearly exhausted from tired and cold, Zeb is watching his fellow guardsman closely. Kallus can feel the searching kindness of his gaze--and it does little to reduce the flush of his face. <em> Stop looking at me like that! </em>He thinks at Zeb stubbornly. Kallus can tell that the Lasat’s body is now slightly angled towards him in concern, and he is unhelpfully thrown back into his memories of the ice moon. And the way that he had slept, safe, sound, held against Zeb’s radiant chest. And the way that Zeb’s incredibly soft, fuzzy fur had warmed his fingertips and tickled his nose. </p><p>“Yes, yes, I’m <em> fine </em>. I’m just...ready for our shift to be over.”  </p><p>Zeb grunts in agreement. He shifts back against the carved wall of ice, balancing his bo-rifle against the floor. As far as either man is concerned, Hoth is a <em> far </em> less hospitable base than their last one on Yavin 4. But, Kallus supposes, <em> that </em> is what makes it an ideal location. And at least he’s been working on growing out his full beard. </p><p>“Unfortunately, Kal, I think this one might actually be <em> longer </em> than our last one.”</p><p>Kallus narrows his eyes. “Run that by me again?” </p><p>“We’ve got some of those new recruits comin’ in on the night-shift after us. Hera said that they’re still pretty green, and I’m not gonna be surprised if they take <em> extra </em>time getting all their winter gear on.”</p><p>He sighs with frustration. <em>Of course. </em>Although the Rebellion was gathering new recruits and building alliances every day, it still takes a great deal of time to break in new members and make them acquainted with the sacrifices involved in being a part of the movement. Even with the military background of a former Imperial, Kallus had been required to develop some calluses of his own.  </p><p>“Well, I don’t blame them,” Kallus replies bitterly. “It’s <em> cold </em>out here, Zeb. And I have less hot Lasat and meteorite to get me through it this time.” </p><p>As soon as the words leave his mouth, Kallus’ tired eyes snap open wide. </p><p>
  <em> Stars! Did I actually say that last part out loud?!  </em>
</p><p>Just as he’d feared, Garazeb Orrellios is staring at him. </p><p>Clearly, the relentless pressure of the work and the cold is getting to Kallus, because there is<em> no way </em>in the <em>galaxy </em>that he should have said such a thing to Zeb. No matter <em>what</em> he thinks of his best friend in the privacy of his bunk, he <em>knows </em>how his friend feels and thinks about such things right now: he <em>is</em> <em>not ready. </em>He’s <em>told </em>Kallus so. Thus he’s gone to exceedingly careful measures to make Zeb feel comfortable, so as not to trod on his comfort level and push any of his own intentions. And <em>now--</em>in the frozen stupor of guarding the base’s entry-gage at night--he’s practically gone and <em>shouted </em>his affections right at him. </p><p>Kallus is horror-struck. </p><p>“S-sorry!” He sputters. “I didn’t mean that to sound so suggestive! It’s late. I’m so <em> tired </em> , Zeb, and I’m <em> cold, </em>and when I’m not thinking clearly--”</p><p>Zeb lifts up his hand. </p><p>Kallus stutters to a halt, deeply embarrassed. He comes to realize, after a moment, that while the Lasat is still staring at him,it is not a wholly <em> bad </em> kind of staring. Instead, it’s as if he has seen something curious and... <em> amusing </em>for the first time? </p><p>Zeb quirks his broad head to the side, considering Kallus.  His thick, heavy, purple eyebrows are raised, and there seems to be a twinkle of playfulness in his round, emerald eyes. </p><p>“Karabast, Kal! Did you just say that I’m <em> hot </em>?” </p><p>“Yes--<em> NO!!-- </em> I was only--!! <em> ” </em></p><p>Kallus is struggling. He raises his hands, desperate, mirroring Zeb’s.</p><p>“I was only talking about the heat from that meteor you gave me back on Bahryn!! And how warm it felt, when I held on to it! Not when--”</p><p>“--When we <em>cuddled</em> <em>together for warmth</em>?” Zeb’s lower fangs poke out in a teasing smirk. “Or when you <em>slept in my arms</em> in that ice cave...?” </p><p>Kallus’ opens and closes his mouth several times. Zeb doesn’t <em> want </em> to talk about this! He’s <em> said </em> as much, <em> clearly! </em> And yet, here he is, in this moment, actually... <em> approaching the subject </em> with Kallus. And he doesn’t seem alarmed. He doesn’t seem upset in the slightest. Instead, he seems kind of...if Kallus didn’t know any better... <em> interested?  </em>He slowly lowers his hands.</p><p>Across from him, Zeb nods encouragingly. </p><p>“Zeb…” </p><p>The Lasat is grinning at him cheekily. Zeb doesn’t blush--he has watched him closely enough over time to know that this is true--but the way that his ears are twitching beneath his hat gives Kallus the instinct that <em> something </em> similar is happening. In all of their interactions, this kind of something has <em> never </em> happened. Not on... <em> purpose. </em> Following the Lasat’s lead, Kallus has determinedly not mentioned the tension of unspoken feelings between them. He hasn’t so much as <em> flirted </em>with Zeb since their memorable spar on Yavin’s moon; not outside of the constraints of battle, anyway. In which they could both laugh it off and excuse it as another excess of adrenaline later.</p><p>But this is <em> not </em> later. Zeb is showing interest in him right <em> now. </em> And if Kallus is not mistaken...he seems...actually <em> open </em>to the idea?</p><p>
  <em> “Alexsandr.”   </em>
</p><p>The Lasat says his name in a purr. He reaches across the space between them, resting a warm, heavy hand upon his shoulder.  </p><p>Kallus finds himself shivering, both at the sound of his name falling so gently and fondly Zeb’s lips, and from the warmth that spreads out from their point of contact. </p><p><em> What am I supposed to say?!  </em> He inhales a deep, shaking breath. So many thoughts rush through his mind: <em> The first time they met. The Lasan genocide. That night on the ice moon. Those last with the Empire. When he was being tortured. When Zeb held him close. When he lay back in his bed, sweating and pining for his best friend.  </em></p><p>But Zeb doesn’t seem to need any of his typically so-accessible words. Instead, he leans his body towards Kallus invitingly, drawing one side of his shoulders close. Kallus resists closing his eyes in elation as Zeb’s hot puffs of breath fan over his face, along with the haze of his strong, musky scent. </p><p>“You didn’t ever <em> lose </em>that Lasat, you know.” </p><p>Kallus shudders in pleasure. He allows his shoulders, then his torso and back, to be drawn into Zeb’s soft embrace. </p><p>“I don’t know about you, Captain, but I’m pretty <em> chilly </em> right now. It would be a waste to lose this shared body heat, wouldn’t it?” </p><p>He feels like his head is swimming. <em> Zeb’s arms. Zeb’s BODY. </em> His best friend and <em> long </em> pined-for lover is finally holding him again after what feels like <em> so long. </em>It takes every ounce of willpower in Kallus’ body not to sink back into the heat and safety of his hold and imitate the contented purr that the Lasat often makes when he sleeps in the sunshine. </p><p>“It <em> would </em>be more intelligent to make use of this warmth,” Kallus sighs in agreement. “Clever, not letting a good thing like this go to waste.” </p><p>To his delight, Zeb hums in agreement. The sound reverberates through the thick fabric of their insulated winter gear, and it runs tingling up and down Kallus’ spine. Holding back a soft groan, he exhales and inclines his back even farther into Zeb’s chest. <em> I’m dead. I’m dead, and I’ve gone to space-heaven.  </em></p><p>As the soft, contented moment lingers, Kallus feels the last signs of tension drain out from his limbs. <em> This is </em> <b> <em>good</em> </b> <em> , </em> he thinks. <b> <em>So</em> </b> <em> good. And so... </em> <b> <em>familiar</em> </b> <em> . </em> Zeb folds snug and comfortable around him, blanketing him like a favorite, overlarge sweater. His smell ( <em> no matter what the rest of the Ghost crew proclaims) </em> is <em> exquisite </em> ; all musty and rich, Zeb is the perfect, masculine mixture of spice, earth, and sweat. The coarse hair of his bearded chin brushes against Kallus’ forehead from where he leans against him; their chests rise and fall in tandem as Zeb takes great, rumbling inhales and exhales of sleepy breath. <em> Memorize this, </em> Kallus commands his weary brain. <em> Remember this moment. You don’t know if you’ll ever get this chance again. </em> And so he does; remaining in half-awake, dreamlike state of appreciation while Zeb dozes off into comfortable slumber.  As Kallus nuzzles into the arms that encase him in protection ( <em> affection?) </em>he etches the sensations into his brain. </p><p>And thus he remains that way--at least, until he falls asleep. </p><p>And until he wakes up again from the sound of the new recruits, fumbling around in the dark, whispering curiously under hushed breathes about at finding a pair of their senior guardsmen-one human, one lasat-entwined and sleeping peacefully together.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>///</strong>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Following The Battle of Endor</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>/// FIVE ///</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>The heavens erupt with thunderous explosions. Burning debris falls from the sky, distorting the cloudless blue above Endor. Each ring of fire and glittering smoke announces another proud moment for the Rebellion. And another sharp, crippling spike of fear in Alexsandr Kallus’ heart. </p><p>
  <em> Zeb! Where is Captain Garazeb Orellios?! If I cannot find him…If we never have the chance to speak to one another again…to say... </em>
</p><p>Kallus is not a man prone to melodramatics. Feelings had never served him well while in the employ of the Empire;,and they’d hardly been in the list of requirements for joining up with the Rebellion (<em> there were none). </em> But if there is <em> any </em> such day that allows for theatrics, <em> today </em> is that day: because they have just <em> defeated the Empire. </em> They have brought <em> freedom </em> to the whole galaxy. This means <em> life </em> and <em> liberation </em>for so many people who have been oppressed by their crushing regime; it means that all their hope, all their sacrifice, has not been for nothing. </p><p>It means that Alexsandr Kallus has a chance to start his life over again. That he gets to be a part of crafting that bright, new tomorrow for the New Republic. And he gets to choose who he wants to do that kind of craftsmanship with. </p><p>“Excuse me!” He says, trying still to be polite in his haste. “Pardon me, coming through!” </p><p>Kallus pushes his way among the knee-high clusters of Ewoks, their furry, teddy-bear like eyes glittering as they watch the sky and chatter in awe. <em> Did Zeb take the same shuttle as Hera? </em> He wonders, stepping around a cheering group of rebels. <em> Is he already reporting back to the base with the others?  </em></p><p>Some of the tall, ancient redwoods are scarred and smoldering. The lively, thick foliage of the forest is spotted with blaster-fire and burns, and it reminds Kallus of the green in Garazeb’s eyes. <em> Let him be alright, </em> Kallus pleads, wondering to whom exactly he is speaking. The thought of the Lasat’s eyes nearly sends him into yet another tailspin of panic: <em> What will I even </em> <b> <em>do</em> </b> <em> without Zeb?! </em> Of course, rationally, he knows that he will be fine; he is a competent, strong agent of the Alliance. But <em> emotionally… </em> Lately, he has been coming to terms with his feelings for Zeb. Not just his attracted, romantic feelings--although, there are certainly layers and <em> layers </em> of <em> that-- </em> but the deep, aching <em> need </em> that he feels inside of his chest, his <em> soul, </em> that he wants to be alongside the other man. To dwell with him. To listen to him speak, and to be heard by him. To share his everyday thoughts and feelings with him--the mundane things, the un-extraordinary things--just because he wants to be <em> known </em>by him. </p><p>Because Garazeb knows him. Not only the safe, polished parts that he shows to others; he <em>knows </em>him, for all of his anger and fears. And, somehow--in spite of all of that--Zeb has stayed and stood beside him. And <em>more. </em>Because not only has the Lasat rescued him from peril more times than he can even count; he has <em>transformed </em>Kallus and his life beyond recognition. By inviting Kallus into his crew, Zeb effectively <em>saved </em>him from a life of bitter servitude in the Empire--and <em>so much more. </em>He has been restored to his hope and his trust in the <em>galaxy </em>again. Zeb has taught Kallus how to open himself up once again to others, and to enjoy the true wonder of having real friends. He has taught Kallus how to fight hard, forgive, and get up again, waking up with the optimism that things will be better, that <em>he </em>can be better, even when his goals are yet unachieved. And he’s taught Kallus other things--<em>being </em>things--like how to laugh. How to play. Even (<em>if not on purpose) </em>how to <em>dream. </em></p><p>At this point, Kallus cannot, he <em> will not, </em> imagine a world without Zeb. The man has become like a partner to him... and he really, <em> really </em>ought to tell him that. </p><p><em> Just let Zeb be okay, </em> he prays fervently once again. <em> Let him be fine. If he is...I will </em> <b> <em>tell </em> </b> <em> him. If he’s fine, I will-- </em></p><p>Eyes still high above the crowd and scanning for the tallest purple figure, he almost trips over a trio of embracing rebels. </p><p>“Sorry!” Kallus exclaims. “My mistake, I’ll just--” But he is cut short by his own surprise. The three people--a golden-brown human, a clone, and a rodian--are all enthusiastically <em> kissing </em> . Kallus is mesmerized as he watches the intensity of their affection, their <em> love. </em> In between switching back and forth from tear-stained cheeks, they laugh and they sob and they whisper one another's names. </p><p>Thoughts still filled with Zeb, Kallus floods with embarrassment. </p><p><em> Do I love him? Should I... </em> <b> <em>could</em> </b> <em> I..kiss him?  </em></p><p>“Ah, never mind!” he says, stumbling back from the trio quickly. “I’ll just, <em>yeah</em>, I’ll just go. You’re all busy, and I’m--”  </p><p>As if from a long distance away, the clone turns his scarred face towards Kallus. “You looking for him?” He asks, soft concern twinging his Mando'a accent. “The big one?  Lasat captain?” </p><p>Kallus flushes once again. <em> Of course, </em> <b> <em>everyone </em> </b> <em> knows how I feel about Zeb. </em> He straightens his shoulders, doing his best to sound calm and authoritative <em> (rather than reveal that he is dangerously close to unravelling). </em>“Yes. Have you seen him lately?” </p><p>
  <em> (He doesn’t quite achieve it.)  </em>
</p><p>The clone smiles knowingly. He tilts his head towards the reinforced shelter. “Yeah. I think he was with the retrieval crew going out towards the west mountains. Something about doing recon from the treetops to locate fallen soldiers?” </p><p>The words warm Kallus from the inside out.</p><p><em> That’s my Zeb! </em> He thinks gleefully, breaking into a delighted, goofy grin. <em> He’s alive! And he’s doing his best--as usual! </em>Turning away from the trio, he calls out a hasty word of thanks and departs for the base. </p><p><em> Zeb made it. </em> <b> <em>We</em> </b> <em> made it. </em> Kallus sucks in lungfuls of fresh, forest air, unable to stop the smile on his face. <em> I don’t have to live alone in a world without Zeb. I don’t have to figure out how to put all these pieces back together myself. </em>Because Kallus knows that, between the pair of them, he and Zeb would keep healing together. They would sort out and tend to each others’ wounds, and, when more pain would come, walk through them together again. Kallus brushes tears from his eyes with the back of his hand as he approaches the geometric, gray shape of the shelter, eyes blurring with tears of overwhelming affection. </p><p>Thus he runs into a group of people again. </p><p>“Woah, easy there, friend!” a familiar voice says. Then, the chuckling stops and is replaced with excitement and wonder: “<em> Kal?!”  </em></p><p>Alexsandr Kallus throws open his arms as Zeb sweeps him up and off of his feet. He is spinning--or, at least, his <em> head </em> is spinning--as the laughing Lasat circles him in his arms. “Alexsandr!” he exclaims, squeezing him so tight that his bones might actually crack inside of his chest. “Did you see?! They <em> did it!! </em> Those glorious bastards actually <em> did it!” </em>He nuzzles into Kallus’ jaw affectionately, rubbing into his sideburns with warmth and affection. </p><p>“I <em> did </em> see,” he gasps, barely able to catch a breath within Garazeb’s hands. <em> Home. Safe. Zeb. Right here. With me. </em>“I didn’t know if you had left the base or not, and when our shuttle landed, there was no time to find you--”</p><p>“--We took the far-west quadrant,” Zeb says, speaking over his rumbling purr. “I was worried when I couldn’t find you either. ‘Course, I hoped that you’d just stay on the base with the rest of Intelligence like a good soldier...but you’ve never exactly been the kind to follow orders, have you, Captain?” </p><p>The Lasat beams down at him, and Kallus grins back. Several strands of his long, looping ponytail have come loose and fallen around his face, and he’s pretty sure that he must look like a ragdoll <em> disaster </em> in the Lasat’s arms. Since the moment he’d realized that this battle could be the thing that separated them forever, he’d been worried <em> sick; </em>and he wonders if the strain reveals itself on his face. </p><p>But Zeb doesn’t really seem to care. In fact, he is looking at Kallus with all of the soft, tender fondness in the world. As Kallus melts under his gaze, he remembers several such moments with Zeb: the time when they huddled together for warmth during that first, cold night on Bahryn. The time that he’d fallen asleep in Garazeb’s arms during their long overnight shift on Hoth. The times that they’d sparred, played and laughed together. The times that he’d walked away from Zeb after saying goodnight, feeling his heart aching with the yearning pent up inside of his chest. </p><p>Zeb tilts his head to the side, looking down into Kallus’ eyes. It seems as though he is trying to read him, to see what exactly is on the human’s mind. It is at that precise moment that the Ashla--or <em> Whoever </em>it was that the former Imperial had been praying to earlier--decided to bring the words of his promise back in full force. </p><p>Blushing furiously and steeling himself against all fear, Kallus looks up at Zeb through his eyelashes.  </p><p>“Zeb...Do you think that...<em> maybe </em> ...I could...give you a <em> kiss </em>?” </p><p>The Lasat’s eyes spring open wide in surprise. </p><p>Kallus forces every molecule of himself to hold still, trying not to flinch back or look ashamed of his question. <em> I swore it, </em> he thinks to himself. <em> I have to be honest with him...with myself. It’s now or never. </em> He knows that the other man has feelings for him, but he also does not know to what flavor or extent. While Zeb has been warming up to his casual touches and lingering fingers upon his hand, he has <em> never-- </em> since that day on Yavin’s moon--suggested anything even <em> slightly </em> romantic to Zeb. Nevertheless, he hopes that Zeb will consider it. </p><p>And in <em> fact </em> --to his delight and astonishment--Zeb seems to be doing <em> more </em>than considering it.</p><p>In the way that the Lasat is tilting his head; in the way that he is lowering his face down towards Kallus’ own, fanning him with his sweet, soft puffs of breath; it seems as though he is just about to receive <em> exactly </em>what it is that he’s asked. </p><p>Inches away from Kallus’ lips, Zeb pauses shortly. “I’ve never done this before…” he murmurs quietly, eyelids drooping half-closed. “Lasats...we don’t really kiss. But...<em> you </em>do. So...if you’re willing, show me…?”</p><p>He thinks as though the fragile pieces of his heart might break. Kallus lets out a moan of pure elation, throwing his arms around Garazeb’s neck. He kisses into his lips with first gentleness--then <em> fervor-- </em>exploring the taste and feel of his friend’s mouth. </p><p>“<em> Karabast!” </em> Zeb gasps as he draws away. The look on his face almost makes Kallus <em> laugh: </em> he looks stunned, pleased,  <em> enamored. </em> “That was... <em> that’s </em> ...oh, I <em> really </em> think that I get why you humans like <em> this </em>!” </p><p>Kallus grins as Zeb comes in close again. <em>Oh, Zeb, ZEB! </em>he thinks as they press their lips together. He revels in the explosion of new feelings, sensations. Some of it is familiar, and exactly like he’s imagined: the slick, warm slide of Zeb’s lips is just as delightful as any human’s. But his <em>tongue</em>, however--that’s <em>another</em> story. When Kallus pushes in lightly for his first exploration, he is greeted by an unexpectedly rough, sandpapery prickle. </p><p>Zeb pulls away, laughing. </p><p>He squeezes his thick arms around Kallus’ waist even tighter, and nuzzles his cheeks into Kallus’ chest. </p><p>“Those are for <em> groomin’ </em> , Kal.” He explains as Kallus picks at the sore spot on his tongue. “They go <em> outside </em>the body. Best not to try to enjoy it like that.” </p><p><em> Like...that?! </em> Kallus thinks, dizzy. <em> You mean, as in, there is another way?! </em> Higher than the erupting sky, Kallus gives a delighted shiver. He has wanted this for <em> such a long time. </em> Resigning himself to friendship, he had given up on hope that the Lasat would ever, <em> could </em> ever, want him in the same way. But <em> now-- </em> it seems as though the Ashla is smiling on him. Because he is presently realizing every <em> ounce </em> of his best fever-dreams as he clings to Zeb, and he is hearing the quiet suggestion of <em> more.  </em></p><p>Zeb’s hands have found the back of his head, and are carding through his fine, sandy hair while they are kissing again. He is everything, <em> everything: </em> Kallus is surrounded, supported and <em> loved </em> by this man. They are alive; the <em> Rebellion </em>is alive, and freedom will reign throughout the galaxy. </p><p>Kallus sighs, allowing his lips to finally part from Zeb. Only the reassurance that he can do this again--that Zeb <em> wants </em>this again, as much as he does--provides him with the presence to breathe. The Lasat bumps his strong, purple-furred head against his own, and they stay there together, wrapped up in their affection. </p><p>Gradually, the former ISB agent opens his eyes. What he sees is <em> beautiful. </em> The forest around them is showered in sunlight; the sky above them is bright with fire and stars; there are people all around them, hugging and cheering and holding their loved ones. And <em> Zeb. </em> Zeb is alive. Holding him. <em> His. </em>Proud and powerful, the Lasat is suspending him against his chest, as though Kallus weighs no more than a Loth-cat. His green eyes are clouded over with tears, and a few have slipped into the laugh-lines at the corners. On his face he wears a soft, serene smile; a mirror of Kallus’ own contentment. Even as the world spins in wonder around them, he finds the man holding on to him to be the greatest marvel of all. </p><p>“Zeb,” Kallus says, voice thick with emotion, “I’m so glad you’re safe. And that we’re back together.” </p><p>The other man purrs in agreement, holding Kallus against his chest. “Likewise, Alexsandr. Although I knew that you’d be just fine.” </p><p>He sighs and rests against his best friend (<em> partner? </em>), feeling the building joy growing inside of him. “Thank you. For letting me do that. With us.” </p><p>The strong hands shift from Kallus hips. One of them strokes up and over his back; the other comes to rest beneath his backside, holding him up with spine-quaking ease. </p><p>“Oh no, thank <em> you,” </em> Zeb returns, fixing a steady, <em> hot </em> gaze on Kallus. “You have no <em> idea </em> how long I’ve been wanting to do that. I was just... <em> nervous. </em> And...if you’ll have me…” Zeb quirks a brow, returning to their easy, familiar dynamic of flirtation. “I’ve got a <em> lot </em>more that I’d like to try...‘With us.’” </p><p>A thrilling, holt jolt of desire shoots up Kallus’ spine. Blinking at the burning sensation that is rushing over the skin of his thighs, he coughs softly and reaches for Zeb. When his hands are entangled in the Lasat’s long, jawline beard, he sighs heavily and sinks his weight against him. </p><p>“Long live the Rebellion,” he replies, grinning. “And long live our freedom from the Empire.” </p><p>He cannot <em> wait </em>to get started on this next part of their adventure.</p><p>
  <strong>///</strong>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. ...And At Home On Lira San</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><b>/// SIX ///</b> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “K-Karabast!”  </em>
</p><p>Zeb pushes at the sandy hair falling into Kallus’ eyes. It clings to the hot, salty skin of his forehead in the late-night heat of Lira San.</p><p>
  <em>“Karabast, KARABAST!””</em>
</p><p>Kallus is straddled and sweating across Garazeb’s waist. No matter how many times he has been filled by his husband, and no matter how long thier careful preparations, he is never<em> fully </em> prepared for the enormity of seating the Lasat’s thick cock inside of him. </p><p><em> “Mmmmnn.” </em> Zeb purrs. “Gone pretty <em> native </em> with that <em> mouth </em> of yours, Kal...”</p><p>He reaches one four-fingered hand from where they are joined at the waist to brush it through Kallus’ thickening beard.</p><p>“...Can’t say that I <em> dislike </em> it, either.” </p><p>Kallus bites down on one swollen, bruised lip in order to keep himself together. It’s easier <em> said </em> than done: while their anatomy is fairly similar, there is a <em> definite </em> size difference between them; and even their most minuscule movements drives Kallus farther down upon Zeb’ expansive indigo shaft, impaling him closer and closer to the point of speechless. </p><p>“H-hard <em> n-not </em> to…” he pants. “C-considering what has b-been <em> inside </em> of it...” </p><p>Zeb’s purr turns into a rumbling laugh.</p><p>The sound ripples between the two of them, vibrating within his hulking abdominal muscles and thrumming up the length of the shaft that connects them. </p><p>“Are you <em> complainin’ </em>?” he teases, giving their jointed hips a thrust. </p><p>“N-n-<em> Oh!” </em> Kallus gasps. <em> “ </em> Oh, Zeb! No, <em> please </em> don’t stop... <em> Ashla…” </em> </p><p>Sex with Garazeb is <em> everything </em> that Kallus had ever wanted. In the time during his Imperial service, he had always been left with the dissatisfied, empty feeling that there was something... <em> more </em> for him out there in the galaxy. Beyond the hollow, dull ache of loneliness left by each of his partners, he had been prickled by the distinctive feeling that he would enjoy, at <em> some </em> point, to be on the receiving end of the dominance that he so frequently offered. And yet, that kind of situation was highly unlikely: Alexsandr Kallus was a solid 6-foot-3 inches, powerfully built, and the men who could lift him were often so outstripped by his intellectual caliber that he’d be more likely to gain satisfaction by his own hand in the fresher. </p><p>And then, he’d met aliens<em>. </em> Specifically, <em>Garaz</em><em>eb.  </em></p><p>The Lasat shifts his hands up and down Kallus’ thick, chorded back. He’s gained significant weight since they’d moved to their home upon Lira San; but Zeb thinks that the love handles look <em> good </em> on his husband. For all of his years of cultivating a six-pack, Kallus tends to agree that the additional plush has been good for him, both as a mark of a kinder lifestyle, and of the husband who has softened out his harder edges. <em> (Besides--there is little in his life as thrilling as Zeb digging his claws into his ample flesh, leaving sweet, stinging, bruises in the lightning-bolt ripples.)  </em></p><p>“Nngh, <em> Alex.” </em> Zeb growls. “Alexsandr, I’m...I think I’m <em> gettin pretty close </em> now...” </p><p>Kallus shivers. The gravelly sound of the Lasat’s voice is further evidence of how near he is to his climax. It has been Kallus’ privilege to grow accustomed to the signs of his lover’s pleasure: the way that his ears fold back tightly and twitch against his furred, lavender head; the way that his baritone, rumbling purr folds into each of his tightening inhales and exhales; the way that his feline pupils expand into starry darkness, overtaking the green of his eyes, in the heated moments just before releasing. </p><p>He raises a hand to card it through the stiff, supple fur that grows upon the Lasat’s chin.</p><p>“Alright.” He murmurs gently. “Then let’s take you there.” </p><p>Zeb groans.</p><p>“You...you <em> ready?” </em> he whispers, fingertips brushing <em> so </em> softly over his skin. “D’you need a breather first?...Should we...take a <em> break </em>?” The Lasat’s thick legs are trembling. He is breathing heavily in and out through his nose, willing himself to contain his breaking point for Kallus’ sake. </p><p>Kallus gives a breathy laugh. He <em> loves </em>this man. It’s why he married him. </p><p><em> “No.” </em> he replies with conviction. “<em>Karabast, </em> Zeb, I was <em> made </em> to take in your body. I was <em> put together </em>so that you could fill me up.” </p><p>This brave declaration sends a shudder of pleasured surprise through Zeb’s form. He growls once more, hot breath washing over Kallus’ face and sending jolts of sensation between the clench of his pelvis. </p><p>Kallus drops his chin, pressing their foreheads together. “The only <em> break </em> that I need,” he replies passionately, “is in the frame of this bed. When you bend me over, and pound me into sub-consciousness.” </p><p>He makes a noise between a gasp and a sob when Zeb suddenly withdraws from his body.</p><p>Abruptly, he is left cold and open and <em>craving.</em> After being so full, so <em>hot </em>with the vast, burning thickness of the Lasat, he feels as though he’ll practically <em>freeze to death </em>without his mate's cock inside of him.</p><p>“<em>Zeb...”   </em></p><p>“Hold on a second--”</p><p>Zeb paws Kallus all over, until one hand rests behind his back and one over his belly. In a gesture that makes his head <em> spin, </em>the Lasat lifts him with incredible strength and throws him across the bed. He lands in a crouch near the headboard on his hands and knees, with his lover crawling to kneel behind him. </p><p>“<em>ZEB!” </em></p><p>“Jus’ <em> hold on a second!” </em> Zeb growls. He presses one heavy hand down upon the small of his back, anchoring him in his needy squirming. “I might help ya with that, if ya <em> give me a minute…” </em></p><p>Kallus moans as Zeb’s hands slide lovingly up and down the curve of his back. His expansive palms pause for just a moment over the front of his thighs, enjoying the thick, ginger hair that covers the more private parts of his body. He shudders and pants as those hands come to rest upon either wing of his pelvis, teasing him with a promisingly tight-fingered grip. </p><p>“H-how much can ya take?” This time, it’s <em> Zeb’s </em> voice that is trembling.</p><p>Kallus grins.He drops his head and--from the view between his spread legs--watches his husband drop one hand to pump at his fat, weeping cock. At first, the Lasat’s penis had been intimidating: the heart-shaped head, the icey-blue pre-come, the rigid spines swelling ominously at the base. But now, after years, Kallus <em> knows </em> how his lover works; and he does not have an <em> ounce </em> of fear. Zeb is firm, but gentle; strong, but caring.</p><p>He would never hurt him. </p><p>“All of it," Kallus replies eagerly. “Zeb, please, <em>Take me.” </em></p><p>And he does. He wants <em>all </em>of it. Kallus shivers both from the slick drip of lubricant into his anus, as well as the sheer, hot anticipation of what will come next. Zeb swears, and with shaking hands, he closes the gap between them obediently.</p><p>There is <em> nothing </em>like it: being together with his mate like this. Kallus breathes deeply and relaxes his muscles as they begin the process of reuniting their flesh. It’s important--especially given his lover’s size--for them to take it easy, and gradually work their way into this step by step, no matter how fast either one of them wants it.  Zeb growls deeply as he presses himself closer against him, pressing into the wet pucker of his flesh until the front of his furred thighs are brushing against Kallus’ smooth skin.</p><p>“O-okay?<em>” </em>the Lasat pants. </p><p>Kallus exhales through his nose in satisfaction.</p><p>“<em>More </em>than okay, love. Bit more now...I’m ready…” </p><p>The human groans when Zeb’s claws bite into the flesh of his skin, and the ridges of his pelvis push into the swell of his ass. He can feel the plush, velvet ridge of his heart-shaped head sinking deeper and deeper into the sheath of his body, but still, he wants more. </p><p><em> “More, </em>Zeb,” he pleads. </p><p>Zeb gives it to him. </p><p>There is a beautiful balance of power between them: the giving and taking, the asking and receiving. Kallus is not shy in his requests, and Garazeb is an attentive listener. In the way that he suggests and invites and draws Zeb forward, Kallus never feels as though he is being controlled; and yet, the sheer size and <em> power </em> of his lover allows him to feel <em> deliciously </em> dominated. </p><p>When Garazeb strikes deeply inside of Kallus, enough to just brush against his prostate, he hears himself swearing again. He groans, digging his fingertips into the familiar, soft sheets on their mattress. </p><p><em> “What’s that? </em> ” Zeb purrs, rotating his hips.</p><p>Kallus groans as the Lasat begins a slow repetition of the gesture, moving <em> in </em> and <em> out </em> in a hot way that <em> drags </em>on his sensitive insides.</p><p>“Did’ja say something, Kal?” </p><p>He laughs breathily as Zeb begins to increase the pace of his thrusts with his taunts.</p><p>“K-<em>Karabast,” </em> he whispers heatedly. <em>“Ah, </em> Zeb--<em>t</em><em>hat’s--</em>that’s very <em>good!”  </em></p><p>It would seem that his lover would agree, from the way that he tightens his grip and pushes the tempo.</p><p>Kallus sucks in a breath, feeling himself beginning to fully open up with each slick, slurping thrust in and out of his entrance. “<em>K-karabast,” </em> He groans again, tasting and feeling the sound of the word. Zeb’s breath, too, is beginning to tighten into the more ragged pants. The human can almost imagine what it looks like from above: himself, shaking, bent over the front of his bed; Garazeb, clinging on to him from the back, driving into him like a heat-frenzied animal; both of them lost in their pleasure.</p><p>It brings him to the very edge.</p><p>“Garazeb, <em> please!" </em>He hears himself gasp. "<em>Move </em> in me. <em>Come </em> in me. I--I <em> n-need--</em><em>r-right now--</em>!<em>”  </em></p><p>“Soon," Zeb reassures him. The Lasat is approaching his third and final climax of the night, and his gravelly voice sounds hazy with lust and exaustion. “D’ya want to try an take all, or--” </p><p>“<em>Yes.” </em> Kallus replies firmly. “ <em> C’mon, </em>Zeb, I’m--GAH!” </p><p>Whatever else he was saying, Kallus forgets, because Zeb’s body spasms and <em> roars </em> when he comes.</p><p>His muscular frame lurches forward, compressing Kallus’ already weak knees to tremble beneath him from the increased weight. His claws drive into his soft, marbled skin on the outside of his flesh, while the spiked, mating barb of his erection bursts forth and snags the prostate deep within him.  </p><p><em>“KARABAST!” </em> Kallus sobs, while Zeb shoots out and shudders above him. “K-karabast, <em> karabast, uuuhhhnnnngg…”</em></p><p>The meeting of pain and pleasure is exquisite. Kallus is surrounded with a spine-crushing warmth above him, consumed by sweet spikes of pain within him. He finds himself somewhere, as usual, between laughing and crying as he enjoys the high of feeling while entwined with his lover, knowing that this shared ecstasy is also meant for <em> him, </em>and that their feelings are mutual and not by accident. </p><p>Gradually, Zeb begins to come down from the climax. He wraps his arms around Kallus and carefully moves them to lie on one side. They’ll still be joined together for some time by his barb--reproductive advantage, and other phenomenon of Lasat mating habits--and this time is most comfortable when they’re snuggled together. </p><p>Kallus pants his heartbeat back down to rhythm, feeling the contented purr of his husband behind him. He shifts back, wincing slightly at the intense pleasure-pain of it, until he is inclining against Garazeb’s chest. The Lasat throws an arm around his shoulders, cupping him against his own racing heart. </p><p>“Well,"  Zeb chuckles, voice raw from pleasure, “I woulda <em>never</em> guessed that it does somethin' so <em> intense </em> for me to hear ya talking all <em> uncouth </em> like that, in my nature.” </p><p>Wiping sweat from his brow, Alexsandr Kallus grins at his Lasat lover.</p><p>“You’ve taught me many things about being a rebel, my dear.”</p><p>He lifts Zeb’s hand and kisses the back of it, inhaling the familiar, delicious scent on his fur.</p><p>“I suppose it was only a matter of time until I joined you in this, too."</p><p>Zeb hums with contentment, nuzzling his head into the back of Kallus’ long, sandy hair.</p><p>“Ain’t we both glad you <em> did," </em>he murmurs, kissing the base of his neck tenderly. "Ain't we both just <em>glad.</em>" The touch proceeds into a rough, sandpapery grooming as he licks the salt and smell from Kallus’ skin. </p><p>“Indeed," the former Imperial ISB agent sighs. </p><p>Contented, the pair fall asleep entwined together. </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>/// </strong>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks so much for reading! Please let me know what you think with comments and/or kudos.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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